Everything But
by BlackFox12
Summary: After the series finale. Andrew receives an unexpected visit and is finally able to let go of some deep-seated guilt


**Everything But...**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the television series Buffy The Vampire Slayer and I'm not making any money from this fic

 **Summary:** After the series finale. Andrew receives an unexpected visit and is finally able to let go of some deep-seated guilt

 **Warning(s):** Spanking; spoilers up to and including Buffy The Vampire Slayer season seven; violence; AU; mentions of canon character death

 **Pairing:** Jonathan/Andrew

###

Maybe he would eventually be able to sleep without nightmares. Maybe. But as he rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, Andrew didn't know if he would ever be truly free of the memories.

The nightmare hadn't been about the final battle this time. There'd been too many of those, where he'd died in a variety of different ways. It had been what he'd expected, after all.

No. He could handle _those_ nightmares. _Those_ ones didn't leave him with the knowledge of his crimes; what he'd done to his best friend.

Guilt stabbed through Andrew's heart and he covered his face with his hands. It didn't matter that he'd thought Jonathan would be fine; that he hadn't truly believed his _best friend_ was going to die. And he knew there was nothing that could ever make up for what he'd done to Jonathan. He'd assumed he would die; but he hadn't and now he had no idea what to do with himself, apart from a vague idea that he wasn't even sure would work.

"Bad dreams?"

The voice that echoed through the room was so quiet, it almost seemed like part of his nightmare. Andrew lowered his hands and stared at the corner of the room.

Jonathan looked exactly as Andrew remembered him; not bleeding out onto the ground, but whole and well. He didn't even look like a ghost, though he couldn't be anything but. Unless he was a hallucination. "Or maybe I'm still dreaming," he muttered.

Jonathan drew himself up to his full height – which really wasn't very tall – and stepped towards the bed. He certainly didn't _act_ like a ghost; not that Andrew had ever seen one before. All of the other things he'd seen and up until now, not one had been a ghost.

"Are you going to kill me?" The question was far calmer than Andrew truly felt inside; but along with the fear was a sense of relief. This was it, then. He should have died during the battle. This was just fate catching up on what it had missed.

"I'm not going to kill you, Andrew." Jonathan stopped only a few feet from him. "You're my best friend."

Moisture filled Andrew's eyes, blurring the vision of his friend. He tried to laugh, but what came out sounded more like a sob. "I stabbed you. I _killed_ you. You're my _best friend_ and I _killed you_."

Instead of pain, all Andrew felt was warmth as Jonathan's arms were wrapped around him. He choked back a sob and wrapped his own arms just as tight around his best friend. "Would have thought my arms would just go through you," he managed to choke out.

"I'm not a ghost."

Those words should have filled Andrew with dread. After all, what kind of demon would be wearing his best friend's face? But despite expecting a horrible death, he couldn't pull back. Because even if he was going to suffer, he was holding the image of his best friend in his arms. Illusion or not, ghost or demon, this embrace was sending warm peace through Andrew faster than anything else could.

Jonathan's face wasn't far from Andrew's, even though his best friend was so much shorter. And his face was tilted upwards, so it was easy for Andrew to tilt his head downwards. Almost frighteningly easy to press his lips against the other man's. Tentatively. Hesitantly.

The kiss was soft and warm, with the hint of salt on his lips as tears ran down Andrew's cheeks. His hands slid slowly down Jonathan's back as thoughts raced through his mind. _Please don't push me away._ Please _be truly Jonathan._

When they pulled apart, there was a dazed look on Jonathan's face. He licked his lower lip and then looked into Andrew's eyes. "Wow," he breathed. "How long?"

"How long have I been gay? Or how long have I been in love with you?" Andrew winced at his own words. In love with Jonathan? He hadn't realised that; hadn't _wanted_ to accept it, because surely murdering the man you loved was _so much worse_ than murdering your best friend?

"You're in love with me?" Jonathan's hands slid down Andrew's arms.

The tears were back in his eyes, making the man in front of him look like he was underwater. "I know you're dead, but if you're planning to torture me before you kill me...there is _nothing_ that will make me feel worse than I do already for what I did to you."

"Do you trust me?"

Andrew breathed in deep before whispering, "I trust Jonathan. I trust my best friend. The man I'm in love with."

Jonathan's smile was brilliant, transforming his entire face. His hands moved to Andrew's, slipping into his and giving a tight squeeze before he stepped past, tugging Andrew after him towards the bed.

Andrew didn't fight or pull away, cooperating and allowing Jonathan to do whatever he wanted; even as the other man took a seat on the bed and gave a gentle tug to pull Andrew across his lap.

A gasp of air escaped Andrew as his stomach hit Jonathan's thighs. His eyes were still damp and a couple of tears trickled their way down his cheeks. Breathing in and out slowly, he reached his hands back and clasped them behind him.

The first dull smack took Andrew by surprise and his breath hissed out in a sharp gasp. The second and third smacks didn't really hurt, but something about being draped over Jonathan's lap – being in such a vulnerable position – caused his emotions to surface. A lump rose in his throat and more tears filled his eyes to slip down his cheeks.

For a few moments, the sounds of the smacks and Andrew's soft sobs were all that filled the room. The cumulative effect of the smacks served to warm up his backside and it began to sting.

Just when Andrew thought he needed to put a stop to the spanking, to at least catch a break, the steady smacks ceased. Struggling to catch his breath, he let out a whimper as Jonathan slipped his fingers into the pajama pants; giving them a sharp tug down and pushing Andrew's shirt up.

The result had Andrew bared from his neck to his ankles, leaving him even more vulnerable and exposed. His hands twitched, but before he could do something like try to pull his pants back up or block his bottom, they were grasped firmly.

The first swat to his bare backside made Andrew jump. The sound echoed so much louder and the sting was immediate. And when Jonathan continued to swat his bared backside, Andrew couldn't hold back his soft cries and whimpers.

"I don't know what brought me back." Jonathan's voice was soft, but still audible above the smacks and Andrew's sobs. "I don't feel dead, but I don't really remember what happened after you stabbed me and I couldn't figure out why my best friend had betrayed me."

Andrew was already crying, but his sobs rose in pitch at Jonathan's words. "I'm _so sorry_." His breath hitched on the next sob torn from his throat and he clutched tightly at the other man's hands. His whole bottom stung like crazy and his cries reached a new level as Jonathan's hand began to focus on the tops of his thighs and his sit spots, pushing him forward for better access.

" _Please forgive me_." That was what Andrew _tried_ to say. But the pain from the swats and the rawness of his emotions combined into a huge ball of pain that filled his entire body, making him feel like his heart was breaking.

"I _do_ forgive you," Jonathan said. "You're my best friend. And if it wasn't obvious from the fact I kissed you back, I _love you too_."

Suddenly, it didn't matter if Jonathan might not be real. He was offering forgiveness; telling Andrew he _loved_ him. It was what Andrew needed to hear. He slumped over Jonathan's lap, doing little more than twitching with each swat and crying steadily. He was crying so hard, he could barely see; but inside, he felt lighter and freer than he had for a _long_ time.

And then, slowly, he realised the spanking had stopped. Andrew breathed in deeply, trying hard not to cry, as he felt his clothing replaced, unable to help whimpering as the soft fabric of his pajama pants brushed over his heated bottom.

The feeling of intense vulnerability didn't leave as Jonathan helped him to stand. The two of them stared into each other's eyes and then – Andrew wasn't sure which one of them moved first – their lips met in a deep, lingering kiss.

"It's really you?" Andrew whispered, once they pulled back from each other.

"Yeah." Jonathan shrugged. "I don't know how or why it happened, but I'm here. If you'll have me."

"There was never any doubt about it," Andrew murmured, wrapping his arms around the other man in a tight hug.

They held onto each other for a while; long enough for the stinging in Andrew's bottom to fade to a tingling warmth. Then, finally, Jonathan whispered against his neck, "So what's the plan now?"

"I think..." Andrew took a deep breath. "I want to carry on helping. I was thinking, you know, with all those new Slayers? I might become a Watcher." He hesitated, still not entirely sure the other man wouldn't just disappear now. "Would you like to come with me?" He reached back to rub his backside, adding, "Always seemed like you were my conscience. At least now you have a way to keep me in line."

Jonathan grinned. "So long as we're together? I'll go with you anywhere."

 **The End**


End file.
